Crimson Horizon
by klixxy
Summary: -AFTER FIGHT AGAINST FATHER AND DURING HALF BLOOD PRINCE- When Ed is called back to the military, he isn't expecting his mission to be to teach a bunch of lazy magic brats. When he's finally adjusted to magic, he finds conflict behind the mask of Hogwarts. With Aerugo threatening it's boundaries and the drama in the wizarding world, what will Ed do?
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Mismatched feet thumped down the smooth hallways of Central Command, and, despite not having been in the building in years, well worn feet briskly made their way to their destination. As his golden hair swung with his swift steps, annoyance stretched across his features, Ed made his way to his commander's office.

"...the stupid bastard…. Was on retirement too….. " Ed sighed, wondering just what kind of shit he had been called back to deal with.

In spite of the few years that had passed, it almost seemed like nothing at all had changed since he had last been in the office.

As Ed kicked down the door with vigour he was met with expectant faces, fond looks, and the usual horseplay until Hawkeye pulled out her gun. It was just how he remembered it.

He smirked, eyeing the door at the far end of the room, quickly awknowledging the team before heading towards his final destination.

With a loud bang, the door flew open and regardless of the years since they had last seen each other, they greeted each other in their old way. But underneath the yells and calm teasing there lay a fondness that could only have come from the absolute trust they had in each other.

Fellow alchemists stared each other down before genuine smiles made their way onto their faces.

"Welcome back, Fullmetal."

His eyes creased as he stared at his subordinate.

"Like hell, you bastard."

"That's the spirit, no matter how small."

"I'M NOT SMALL YOU BASTARD!"

Still smirking, the General slid his hand into his pocket and deftly brought it out.

And, quietly, Roy slid something shiny over to the younger.

His old state alchemist watch glittered in the daylight from the open window.

As Ed reached out a hand to grip the worn metal under his hands, feeling the familiar grooves etch themselves under his skin, he felt a warm feeling in the back of his throat.

He knew he shouldn't feel this happy. After all, he had simply become a dog of the military again, to be sent out in war, to fight, to get injured, and maybe even worse. But as he made his way to the old couch that he used to collapse on every night after a mission all those years ago, he felt happy to be back with all of his team.

As that happy feeling bubbled in small of his chest, he almost wanted to climb onto the roof and shout to the entire world.

After all of these years the Fullmetal Alchemist was finally back in action.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Hello! This is my first story on and also my first attempt at writing a novel length story! Hopefully that turns out ok! If you wanna check out some other stories/fanfics of mine, my Wattpad account is RabidBookworm! I hope that this fanfic doesn't suck too much!

...

"So… what could be so important that you had to call me back in?" Ed's golden eyes glimmered with a challenge.

Roy sighed, remembering the assignment that had been given.

His dark black eyes scanned a sheets of paperwork, rereading the glossy ink words spread out onto the dull paper.

He tossed the thick files down with a thump, leaning back in his chair. Fullmetal wouldn't like this.

"You're….. Being sent to this far off country called England."

Ed blinked. Once, twice, before he finally managed to process what had come out of his commanding officer's mouth.

"WHAT?!" His mouth fell open in shock as he was sent reeling with the information.

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT! WHAT ABOUT AL?!" Ed's shock contorted into fuery as stomped to his feet, whatever peace he'd felt with the man dissipating.

He'd only resumed a somewhat normal life one year ago with Al, he'd only had one year to act like pure children, to play, and enjoy the world for what it was instead of having to worry about government, homunculi, war, or any other shit like that. He couldn't just go away to a far off country now!

But, slowly, seeing the exasperated look on the other's face he calmed down to think about it for a moment.

If it was only for a short amount of time… then he could get back to Al in a jiffy. That….. Wouldn't be a problem, right?

Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, he somehow managed to pull off the simple act of sitting down on a couch look menacing.

"Fine. But how long is this…. Trip…" Roy winced. The blonde wouldn't like what he was about to say.

The man reached up to massage his head, hands pulling through silky black hair as he did so, readying himself for the outburst that was sure to come.

"For… uh… a year or possibly even more…" He spoke cautiously, trying to minimize the damage as much as possible.

It only seemed to make it even worse.

"YOU BASTARD! I CAN'T BE AWAY FOR A WHOLE YEAR! AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE MORE?! I CAN'T JUST LEAVE AL HE-"

Roy held up his hands, breaking the shorter off.

"And Al will be just fine. He can take care of himself."

The blonde looked murderous, razor sharp golden eyes piercing through his head as his fists clenched tighter and tighter.

"Edward, this is very important." The use of his first name made his eyes narrow significantly. And, quietly, he sat down again, still murderously angry, but listening.

And Roy knew that if he had been any other person, Ed would have simply started yelling in their face. And Roy appreciated that.

The General's eyes hardened, his face completely serious, every muscle tense, conveying the message he needed to get across. This was incredibly important. And he could only trust Fullmetal because he was the only one capable enough that he trusted.

And so Ed swallowed his anger and listened.

"This country is very strong and has the potential threat to kill us. If we make the wrong impression, this could go very badly, Fullmetal." If possible, Ed's eyes narrowed even more. This country was that dangerous?

"How so?" He asked carefully, noting every emotion hiding behind that rock hard mask of his.

To his surprise, he found a variety of emotions; worry, concern, carefulness, and a few other murky ones hiding between the theories and equations that made up the maze of the man's brain.

"They have magic, Fullmetal, magic." Slowly, his brain prodded at the foreign concept.

' _Magic?'_

He tried to understand, he really did. But he couldn't find anything. No scientific equations, no answers, no nothing, even from all of the research that he'd done from all over the world.

"Magic? Did I hear you right there bastard? Or are you on drugs again?"

The man sighed again for what seemed like the millionth time that day, tired fingers kneading at that spot at the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, Fullmetal, you heard me right. And no, I'm not on any type of drug."

The teen in front of him gaped, his prodigy mind trying to grasp what the other was saying and failing miserably. He was an alchemist after all, he believed in solutions, in math, in science, in the chemistry of the world, in the equivalence hidden in nature, in gravity, in space, in almost everything that could be explained with numbers and equations. But magic? Magic couldn't be explained. It was an alien subject only known to people from the ancient fairy tales and the myths from the legends of the old.

And as he tried to comprehend what the older was saying, he always came back to the same sentence.

 _But magic doesn't exist._

But then again, he knew his commanding officer better than to think that he would lie to one of his trusted subordinates under almost any circumstances unless a) he is being stopped from saying the truth by a stronger force (but even then he would try to tell them) or b) he has a plan. So his mind kept whirling, going around and around in circles.

 _Magic doesn't exist. It can't exist._

But… it did. And he had to accept that now. He could very well see the truth behind those serious black eyes.

 _Magic…. Does exist. Somehow, unexplainably, it does._

He sighed.

"Alright… magic…. That would be very hard to counter since we know next to nothing about it and the abilities it could potentially have."

"Exactly. It seems you understand what's at risk here. So you better take this job seriously, Fullmetal. You can't fool around at this school. As much as I know, there is also a war going down there, so be careful, and when push comes to shove, side with the side that you see fit."

Ed nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He would have to control himself.

Then, he noticed the General's particular choice of wording.

"Wait, bastard, what do you mean, school?" Roy smirked, the seriousness fading just the tiniest bit.

"It seems I still haven't told you what you'll be doing in England haven't I?" Roy's eyes glistened with mirth as Ed stared suspiciously at the man in front of him.

"You see, Ed, you'll be teaching Alchemy to a bunch of moody teens at this magic school called Hogwarts." Roy said, much too cheerily.

Ed buried his face in his hands. He should have known this would have been coming. He was suddenly slammed with the big picture of his situation.

He was going to a magic school named Pig Farts to teach a bunch of brats Alchemy without Al or anybody at all, one wrong move could kill his entire country, and there just so happened to be a war going on there too.

He groaned, cursing in tens of different languages under his breath.

A bunch of heavy books were thrown on the table in front of him, making the poor piece of furniture shake with the weight of them.

A just as heavy smirk on his face, the General just looked at him with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, Fullmetal, you better get onto studying. You'll leave in three days. As a prodigy, I expect you to know the language by heart and be at least through the first and second year books of the magic stuff. Oh, and you better be packed and ready, Ed~ ward~." The man punctuated his name with a horrible song that sounded like the croaks of broken toads.

Ed banged his head on the table as the poor, abused thing trembled again.

...

A week later, far away from Amestris in London, Führer Grumman was walking carefully through the halls of the muggle Prime Minister's headquarters, his sharp eyes scanning the place for any suspicious activity. Quietly, he met the eyes of a dark skinned, bald man sitting at a rather important looking desk. They kept their gazes for a moment, before tearing it away to focus on different things. There was a certain aura coming from the man that screamed at Grumman's instincts. There was a wariness, a tension in his shoulders that made the Führer cautious of the other man.

Quickly, his piercing eyes picked up the name on the tag on the man's desk.

Shacklebolt. As he made his way up the stairs towards the room to which he had been invited, he could feel Shacklebolt's cold gaze on him all the way up the stairs.

The man must be one of those wizards. Grumman filed him away for later use.

He found the door he had been assigned to, quietly knocking and pushing the door open to find the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic already in deep conversation.

A small fire flickered by the fireplace, creating jagged shadows on the walls.

Scanning the place, Grumman couldn't help but think of Pride, the dangerous homunculus who had attacked from the shadows, and found himself inching towards the dim light in the center of the room.

Focusing back to the task on hand, he raked his eyes up and down upon his fellow politicians. Quickly, he made and entire folders on them filled with files and files of information, all down to the way that they stood and held themselves to estimations of their personalities, any possible weaknesses or strengths, to even the smallest details of their preference of fashion choice.

Rufus Scrimgeour was a complete and utter mystery. He had that careful, calculated look on his face as his ice cold eyes cut through the Führer's masks, eroding away the walls built by years of poker faces and war. But Scrimgeour also had that wild look in his eyes filled with experience and skill but also had that feral glint in them, and if the Führer had been a lesser man, he would have been trembling in his military boots.

Meanwhile the muggle Prime Minister looked anything but everything that made up the Minister of Magic. The man was skinny, and looked like a simple, average man. There _was_ a slight sharp tint in his eyes that showed that he wasn't just your average joe. But other than that, the man looked to be useless if it came to a fight. But as Grumman padded into the Prime Minister's brain, he found a couple of worthy strategies that seemed rather well thought out. For this, he gave the man credit.

Quietly, the Führer sighed, and the three pairs of eyes stopped scrutinizing the other two. As Grumman held out his hand, introducing himself calmly as the Führer of Amestri who may be willing to discuss how to possibly help this wizarding war.

The tension disappeared just the slightest bit, but it still hung thick in the air as all three stiffly discussed any and all plans, eyeing each other distrustfully and gathering more info about the others as the night went on.

As Grumman spent more and more time Scrimgeour and another old man who had come later, Dumbledore, he found it hard to keep his walls in place. Everything about the two men, despite being old and gray screamed dangerous. They were not to be messed with; foes he didn't want to cross.

And when the Führer finally started home in the morning, he was tired out, wrung like a sponge, but when he closed his eyes to rest, twinkling, but dangerous blue eyes cut through him like butter.

...

Meanwhile, in another part of england, there sat a dusty house in a city of white, smoky fog.

Two carefully hooded figures glided through the streets, and the two women's voices cut through the haze like daggers. A whispering black river slid past the two women, splashing against the overgrown, trash filled banks. Shadows reared across the worn land, a disused mill looming over their heads.

A single, scrawny fox hopefully nosed at some old fish and chip bags in the tall, rotten grass.

When the two figures approached, one letting out a yell, the fox quickly slunk away, frightened.

"Wait!"

As the poor fox leaped into the air, trying for a hasty escape, a flash of green light harshly lit up their surroundings, glimmering against the dark river.

The fox dropped to the ground with a small yelp, unmoving and never to move again.

"Just a fox," the same voice spoke disgustedly, toeing the still body of the young fox.

"I thought perhaps an auror - Cissy, wait!" But the figure who the voice was desperately calling for had already glanced at the fox and deftly scrambled up the bank it had fallen from.

"Cissy - Narcissa - listen to me-" The voice managed to catch up to her quarry, and caught her wrist. The other quickly wrenched it away.

"Go back, Bella!"

"You must listen to me!"

"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!" The new voice echoed hauntingly throughout the gloomy place as said owner of the voice angrily continued their way up the bank.

The woman named Narcissa climbed her way to the top, arriving at the railing that separated her from the small row of dilapidated brick houses, dull and blind in the silent darkness.

"He lives here?" asked Bella, her pale face scrunching up in contempt. "Here? In this muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot-"

But Narcissa wasn't even listening, opting instead to slip through the small gap in the rusty railings and was already hurrying across the road.

Along the way, she bumped into a rather small stranger in a strange red coat. In her hurry, she ignored the figure and briskly continued on.

"Cissy, wait!" Bella leaped for Narcissa, almost running in her haste to catch up.

As she passed the strange figure, her eyes caught a breathtaking flash of gold and a few words that made her freeze in her tracks. To anyone else, the words would have sounded stupid, silly almost. But she was a wizard. And she understood full well the meaning of those words.

"... aparated to the wrong place….. Stupid…"

She whirled around, her haste forgotten, searching for the bright red cape through the fog.

But where he had been there was nothing but simple, cold air. He had already left, disappearing into the thick mist, no longer anywhere in vicinity.

Her eyes pierced through the fog, trying to find any trace of that foggy red stranger. What had been that flash of gold? What had that wizard been doing here? Could they possibly know….

The echoing steps of Narcissa snapped Bella out of her thoughts and she reluctantly turned away to continue chasing her companion.

Bella's cloaked billowed behind her as she ran forwards towards where Narcissa had disappeared in the alley between two houses to come to a second, identical street.

Some of the lampposts were broken, and dim light stretched harsh patterns of shadow across the foggy street. Both women ran, running through the eerie patches of darkness and light.

Bella finally managed to catch up to her prey, and this time when she caught her arm, she swung Narcissa around to meet her gaze.

"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him-"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?"

"The Dark Lord is… I believe… mistaken," Bella panted, her eyes glimmering under her hood as she looked around suspiciously, as if the "Dark Lord" might be hiding around a corner. "In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's-"

"Let go, Bella!" Narcissa snarled, her face contorting into something close to pure fuery, fueled by adrenaline and fear. From beneath her thick cloak, she flicked out a long, thin piece of wood; her wand, and held it threateningly out in front of her, pointed in Bella's face.

Bella barked out a cruel, chilling laugh, and despite it being the normal indicator of happiness, there was no such emotion in her voice.

"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't-"

"There is nothing I wouldn't do to anyone!" Narcissa growled, her voice holding a note of hysteria, and she angrily brought down her wand, brandishing it like it was a knife. A flash of light lit up the dark street for a second, and Bella quickly drew back her hand as if burned.

"Narcissa!" But Narcissa had already hurried ahead. Rubbing her hand gingerly, the pursuer followed again, this time keeping her distance as they travelled deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of identical, run down houses.

Narcissa turned sharply down onto another identical street, the worn out sign at the top labelling it as "Spinner's End", a crumbling mill chimney hovering over the foreboding road. Her boots clunked heavily on cracked cobblestones, her footsteps echoing in the seemingly abandoned place as she passed boarded up house after boarded up house. And finally, she came to a halt in front of the very last house where a dim glow came from the closed curtains of a downstairs room.

She had already knocked on the door, her knuckles rapping sharply on the tattered wood before Bella, cursing under her breath, caught up. For a moment they waited there, the only sound in the darkness their quiet pants as they took in the musky smell of the dirty river.

After a couple of seconds, they heard the creaking of the old door as it opened up just a tiny crack. A sliver of a man could be seen peering at them, soulless black eyes searching for the faces under the hoods as greasy black hair hung around his shallow face.

Narcissa threw back her hood roughly, and her deathly pale skin almost shone under the moonlight, her long blonde hair streaming down her back.

"Narcissa!" Said the man, opening the door just the tiniest bit wider to reveal his full stature. He was also cloaked in a similar black outfit, his eyes peering down his tall nose at them. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Severus." She spoke in a strained whisper. "May I speak with you? It's urgent."

"But of course."

He opened the door for them, the house just as chilly as the foggy outdoors despite the crackles of fire coming from inside.

Narcissa carefully stepped inside, her still hooded sister moving inside as well without any invitation.

"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.

"Bellatrix." Snape spoke back, his thin lips curving into a mocking smile before the door closed behind them.

And again, the street was in silence as the fog streamed around the maze of houses as the quiet whispers of the river became the only distraction to the deafening silence.

Not a single soul dared make a peep as tension flowed out of the house like a slippery snake.

The silence was suffocating as time ticked on like a broken clock; so, agonizingly slow, as each second lengthed until it was as if time wasn't moving at all.

But inside the house time was much too fast, it was speeding ahead, racing forwards like the voices' arguments and raised tones.

A muffled scream of despair managed to penetrate the thick walls of the house, leaking onto the street and cutting through the night like bullets.

Muted words followed the scream, like a tumbling river of horror.

"...possible… me… help Draco…."

"... Severus….. Look after….. Him…. No harm?"

"... try…"

There was a sound of something skidding across a rough surface as something, glass most likely, shattered in the house.

More words streamed out like an unstoppable flood of secrets.

"... unbreakable vow.."

"...I will."

"... I will."

"... I will."

A gleaming golden light shone through the cracks in the walls and from the tightly closed window, oppressive and terrifying, nothing like anyone had seen before.

But no one had been there to see it. Nobody but an empty, chilling street and the crumbling ruins of broken houses.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Hello! I'm new to this website and I have no idea how it works so I'd really appreciate it if someone could explain to me exactly how the beta system works here and how you can add a page break for the website. Thank you!

Oh and Harry Potter and Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood belong to J.K Rowling and Hiromu Arakawa respectively, please don't sue me!

...

When the three days had been up, he had met at a train station with this old man named Dumb door or something of the sort. His beard had been ridiculously long, shining silver in the rays of the morning sun. His twinkling eyes had unnerved Ed. Under the layers of friendliness and humor he could see the broken remains of a warrior, and from beneath the door, a power rivalling that of a homunculi slowly seeped out, slowly suffocating him in it's presence. There was something about the way that he carried himself, the way that his face crumpled into a smile that reminded him of himself. And that frightened the blonde incredibly. This man had seen things that no man should have; had gone through terrifying times, looked at death straight in the face, and done deeds that he would never forgive himself for ever again.

And despite the incredible difference in age, Ed felt as if he was looking at a reflection of himself. This man was suffering. He was suffering from his mistakes, his past; his very brain was torturing him with flashes of the past he desperately tried to run away from. Still he plastered a smile over everything to become a mystery to everyone around him. But for Edward, no, he could see the older's very life slip between his eyes. And he could relate to the pain he felt deep beneath the layers of torn up lies. And that scared Ed much more than anything else could have.

In a way, this old man reminded him of Hohenheim, Mustang even. It distressed him that he could think of so many people that this old man could relate to, who shared this torturous hell.

He'd sighed sadly then, quietly shaking the man's hand. Letting his mask crumble, he'd let himself stare at the man with his sad, broken eyes, whispering a sentence that had sent the man's soul into chaos.

" _It seems we're all just broken dolls now huh?"_

The old man's eyes had widened, his masks crumbling to dust around as his face crumpled into complete horror, shock, and just the simple, broken mess he was.

And there, within that bustling, crowded station, the two stared into each other's shattered eyes and quietly acknowledged the other as fellow prisoners.

They were all prisoners to the fangs of the monster called life.

…

After he had been dropped off at the "Leaky Cauldron" which was apparently a pub and the entrance to "Diagon Alley", he had tramped inside the worn place, glancing at the peeling walls and the few people with hoods distrustfully glaring at him.

He had then made his way to the bar stool, asking the bartender, Tom who also seemed to be sizing him up before, apparently deciding that he could be trusted, for a room for one.

Tom quietly asked him for some Galleons, the currency in the wizarding world. When he had simply handed over a few of the golden coins that Dumb door had given him, Tom had just nodded mutely, leading him up the stairs to a small, moderately clean room.

The entire way through the pub, every single person he'd passed had grimaced at him suspiciously, their conversations pausing as he passed, cold eyes following up the stairs.

And he expected no less. After all, this country was at war. He would have been surprised if the people here weren't acting like that. Even wizards, (and alchemists) were human.

He collapsed onto his bed, going over the many different things he had learned the past few days. This magic thing was dangerous, unpredictable, and different. He had seen nothing like it before.

He sighed imagining a war with those pointy sticks and shooting lights.

That would be hell.

But in the meantime, he would immerse himself into the vast world of books to learn everything from 1st year magic to 7th year magic in a single month.

…

Harry snored loudly, face smushed against the cold window at his side, having fallen asleep on it after countless hours of continuous staring down at the dark, lifeless street.

His glasses were askew on his nose and a small trickle of drool ran down his cheek. His breath let out small puffs of misty fog onto the window pane, a circle of gray reflecting off of the dull lampposts standing outside in the chilly air.

The orange glare of the lights washed Harry's face away of any color, leaving him ghostly pale under his shock of black hair.

Next to the sleeping figure, the room was messy, objects thrown haphazardly, the ground a maze of rubbish and possessions. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers covered the floor, a pile spell books hastily stacked upon each other amongst the tangle of robes on his bed. A mess of crinkled newspapers lay in a pool of light on his rickety desk. One headline read in thick, bold letters: _HARRY POTTER : THE CHOSEN ONE?_

 _Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more._

 _"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything" said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night._

 _Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy._

 _Though Ministry spokes wizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

 _The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. page2, column 5)_

Next to this one, a second one had been flipped over that the headline was only just visible:

 _SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE_

 _Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lion-like mane of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving - the man was waving at the ceiling._

 _Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office._

 _Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)_

To the left of this paper sat yet another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title: _MINISTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS' SAFETY_ was visible

 _Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this autumn._

 _"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School._

 _Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, "My grandson, Neville - a good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the Death Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and -_

But the rest of this paper was covered by a large bird cage, a majestic snow white owl scanning its mesmerizing amber eyes around the room to land on its owner. A few times, she would click her beak impatiently in the direction of the young boy, but Harry was much too deeply asleep to hear his pet.

In the middle of the room sat a giant trunk, it's lid thrown open as it waited there almost expectantly, mostly empty save for the few articles of old underwear, empty ink bottles, and quite a few broken quills littering the very bottom.

Close to the trunk, there lay a purple leaflet, words baring up at the bare ceiling above.

-ISSUED ON BEHALF OF-

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

1\. You are advised not to leave the house alone.

2\. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen.

3\. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition.

4\. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2).

5\. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4).

6\. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.

7\. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY.

Harry grumbled in his sleep, his face sliding down the window an inch or two, causing his glasses to become even more lopsided than it had been before.

A cracks alarm clock, repaired by Harry only just a few hours earlier ticked on loudly on the sill, showing just one minute 'till it stroke eleven.

Besides it, underneath of the palm of Harry's hand lay a piece of parchment absolutely covered in thin, slanted writing.

Harry had read this letter so frequently that, even though it had been delivered 3 days ago in a rather tight roll, it now layed almost flat on the table.

Dear Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Even though he had read it so many times that he knew it by heart, Harry couldn't help but send glances down at his clock every few minutes since 7 am that morning.

Although he had read the letter, Harry had made almost no move to pack for the Burrow, not being able to face the possibility that he might not be able to go for whatever reason, his mind supplying him with multiple ideas of how he could be forced to stay in the hell called Private Drive.

Outside the window, a lamppost flickered, and then went out. Startled, Harry bolted awake, gazing out the window in confusion as the clock hit 11.

Outside the window, Harry caught the sight of billowing long robes.

Harry leaped to his feet, eyes jumping to the unpacked trunk in the middle of his room.

He quickly raced around the room, desperately grabbing what he needed and shoving them in his trunk without processing what it was that he was throwing in.

The doorbell rang, and his uncle stomped to answer it, annoyed at whoever was ringing at such an ungodly hour.

Harry froze, realizing that he had not warned the Dursleys of Dumbledore's visit.

He raced down the stairs, heart beating out of his chest and desperately hoped that he would somehow be able to live through this chaotic night and make it to the safe haven of the Burrow.

…

Ed frowned, looking at the most recent letter that the Dumb door man had sent him.

Dear Major Edward Elric,

I have found the place in which you will be staying in for the next few months until the start of the school year. It is called the Burrow, and it is home to the Weasley family. It should be located on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole in Devon, England. I hope that you get there safely. I'm sure you have already read and learned about apparition, and I'm sure you can make it there.

I hope to see you on Friday.

Best of luck,

Albus Dumbledore

He looked at the letter, trying to find any kind of catch or trap in the letter, maybe even a code of some sort. When he came up with a blank, he frowned, gazing at the signature at the bottom of the paper.

So Dumb door wanted him to apparate to "the Burrow", wherever that was. He had indeed read all about apparition, but he had yet to try it. He rolled his eyes. He'd probably be fine, like the man said. He was a prodigy after all.

So he took out his newly purchased wand, waving it around like he had read, and quietly thought of the place he wanted to go.

The next moment everything was pitch black, and he was being squeezed through a tiny, tiny tunnel, his eyes popping and his ears ringing as he became lost in the chaos.

Through it all, he noticed some small passing photos, and he realized that those must be the places that he was passing, just he was passing them with such speed that they were nothing but swishing lights.

So apparition was just, somehow, them travelling at the speed of light or possibly even faster through the atmosphere. He shook his head, not able to understand how these wizards did all of this.

Apparently, shaking his head had been a bad idea, because the moment he did so, he became even dizzier than he had been before, and he desperately reached out to one of the flashing pictures when he couldn't take it anymore.

When he finally came to his senses, he was in a foggy, chilly ghost town, not a single soul in sight. The houses were boarded up and the lights flickered, wavering.

He shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him as he tried his best not to start retching on the ground.

Quietly, his ears picked up on faint voices heading his way.

He looked up, surprised, did someone live here?

As he saw two hooded figures come into view he narrowed his eyes. Whoever they were, they were suspicious. He slipped out of the alley he had been hiding in, and decided to test them. As he crossed the road, he purposely bumped into one of them, muttering something about his failed apparition under his breath, just loud enough for the other to hear him. The instant he finished talking he immediately did a nonverbal invisibility charm, becoming one with the freezing mist blanketing the small village.

The woman reeled around in shock, searching with her eyes for an Ed that was no longer there.

When she finally, reluctantly turned away, Ed let out a sigh of relief and turned to follow these two hooded wizards, questions running through his mind.

 _What are they doing here?_

 _What are they hiding?_

 _Are they these Death Eaters that everyone is talking about?_

He narrowed his eyes as he ran through the fog silently, masking his clanking steps, listening in to their conversations.

From his hiding spot, he heard the word "Dark Lord".

He gasped quietly to himself. So they were followers of that Moldywarts guy!

They were, seemingly arguing about someone that one of them wanted to go to help for, while the other disapproved.

Carefully, Ed memorized every single word in the conversation.

Suddenly, a blinding red light shone from the alleyway in which they were hidden behind.

It was a burning spell. As Ed also committed that to memory, he raced around the corner, trying to find any glimpse of the two women he'd heard, Bella and Cissy.

But they were gone, shadows dispersing into the foggy night.

He sighed as he peered into yet another alley, trying to find anything at all that might be useful. When he found nothing, he searched around for any indicator for where he was.

Finally, he came to a deadly silent street with a sign barely hanging on to a streetlamp.

It read: SPINNER'S END

Sighing, feeling strangely tense, Ed apparated himself away yet again, this time determined to get himself to the right location.

He had left just seconds before the burst of golden light down the street.

…

Oof. I hope that didn't bore you out too much. I promise, we'll get to some action scenes an humor later okay? It's not my fault that the start of my story has to start out with boring introductions and foreshadowing and shit. Anyways, I hope that you guys have some constructive feedback or something, because I really want to improve my writing.

Please give me tips on how to use this website and answer seme of my questions at the start too, if you have the time. Thank you!


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